


What to Wish For

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Clarke is a genie and Bellamy wants to use his wishes carefully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What to Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!!

“You know,” Clarke says conversationally, settling in beside Bellamy where he was sitting by the campfire, “I’ve been kidnapped a lot, and I’ve gotta say, you’ve done some exceptional work.”

He eyes her with the usual cocktail of skepticism and amusement, passing her a bowl of whatever it is he’s eating.

“Is that how you see this scenario?” He asks. “Kidnapping?”

She shrugs, tasting a small spoonful. It’s good. She has no idea what it is, or how he manages to keep coming up with different tasty recipes when they’re constantly traveling, but she’s a little bit convinced he has some magic of his own.

“Kidnapping is just stealing a person, right? That’s essentially what happens when someone acquires my lamp.” The corners of his mouth dip and she bites back a smile by shoveling another spoonful into her mouth. He very obviously doesn’t like considering himself a kidnapper or a thief, and she thinks it’s funny that someone who hates to talk about himself so much is so easy to read. “Besides,” she continues, when it seems like he’s not going to carry this conversation, “I wasn’t raised to really consider anyone my master, so I had to come up with something else to call them.”

Now his consternation gives way to surprise.

“You weren’t always a genie?”

“I was raised Norse,” she answers with a wry smile. She hasn’t ever told her story to anyone; no one’s ever treated her like a person before. She likes that about Bellamy, even if he did kidnap her. “My parents were head of our clan, so there was never really anyone but them that I ever had to answer to.”

“How does some kind of Viking princess become a genie?” He wonders aloud, his dark eyes clouding over as he tries to imagine it. 

This is another one of his expressions she’s gotten used to in the past week or so since he stole her lamp from a nomadic tribe. She hadn’t minded their commander so much, but she definitely prefers Bellamy’s company. He hasn’t even made any wishes yet; all he’s done is ask her question after question about the things she’s seen, the monumental pieces of history she’s witnessed or had a hand in, as he takes her to some yet undisclosed location.

“Bleeding heart,” she shrugs. “We’d made our way pretty far south when the lamp made it into my hands. It used to house a different genie. She was beautiful and awesome, and I could have loved her, so I set her free.” It hurts, thinking about Lexa. Clarke hasn’t really ever talked about her with anyone, and even though it’s been hundreds of years, her entire life is a product of Lexa’s betrayal, so it’s kind of hard to move past that. Bellamy is looking at her with an intense stare, listening hard, soaking up every word. “She didn’t tell me that the lamp can never be empty. I wished her free, and became imprisoned in her place.”

Bellamy is quiet for a while, turning to stare into the flames. The sun has set now, and she takes a moment to admire him. His skin looks more golden in the firelight, his curls seamless against the dark sky. She doesn’t often let herself want things– what’s the point, really?– but if she has to be a genie forever, she doesn’t think she would mind staying in his possession.

Mostly because he doesn’t treat her like a possession.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to cope with it, when she gets stolen from him.

“How many times have you been kidnapped?” He asks, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“A lot,” she snorts, hoping to lighten the mood. “I never counted. Seemed too depressing. But you’re doing the best job, by far.”

“Yeah?” He asks, the hint of a smile on his face. He doesn’t smile a lot, but she’s made it her mission to get him to smile as much as possible, and so far she thinks she’s doing okay.

“For sure,” she says, setting aside her empty bowl and slumping down a little to get comfortable. “You’re keeping me on the move, you’re considering your wishes very carefully and not just using them on a whim, you’re not threatening my life,” she ticks off on her fingers.

“High bar to clear,” he says, the grin widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, what are they going to get out of killing a genie? I don’t even know if I can die.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re not telling me in advance what you’re thinking of wishing for,” she continues. She’s asked him every night, and so far he’s not telling.

“How is that a good thing?”

“The more time I have before I grant the wish, the more time I have to think of a loophole,” she grins. “I don’t even know very much about you, so I can’t guess what you’ll wish for, either.”

“I didn’t realize you’d want to know about me.”

“I do,” she admits quietly. “And not just because of the wishes. I consider you a friend, and I pretty much trust you not to use your wishes on anything too morally reprehensible. I’d probably even overlook poor wording at this point, and just honor the spirit of your wish. So yeah, this is probably the best way this scenario could go for you.”

“You consider me a friend?” His voice is pitched strangely, and when she looks at him, he’s wearing an unfamiliar expression. “Even though you think I’m a kidnapper?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” she says gently, nudging him with her foot.

“I guess not.”

The conversation has become weighty again, and she doesn’t know what to say next.

“I trade spices for a living,” he offers suddenly. “Picked it up from my mom, who grew herbs and traded locally. When I was old enough, she’d send me to trade around in other markets. I got to see a lot of the world, but I missed a lot of my sister growing up, and I wasn’t there when my mom died.” He falls quiet and Clarke hardly breathes, too afraid he’ll stop talking. “I tended our home garden until my sister was old enough to do it by herself.” His voice is fond, and Clarke’s heart aches for her family in ways it hasn’t for decades. “This is my first circuit abroad again, and when I saw that tribe had a genie– I didn’t even know what I would wish for. I still don’t. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet a real genie.”

He looks over at her, smirking. “That’s why I haven’t told you what I’m wishing for. It isn’t strategy on my part, I just don’t have a clue.”

Somehow, this makes Clarke like him even more.

“You could go the conventional route,” she says. “Long life, prosperity, falling in love. Those are the three I get the most.”

“I don’t want to magic someone into falling in love with me,” he says, sounding disgusted. “It’s not real. And I don’t want to go too extravagant and draw attention to myself.” He looks embarrassed again. “I don’t want you falling into the wrong hands.”

She smiles, pleased, and he clears his throat, asking, “What else do people wish for?”

“Some people wish for special abilities, like being able to turn invisible, or being able to fly.”

“Again, I’m going for discretion.”

“Being invisible is discreet,” she argues halfheartedly. She can’t really see him using his wishes on anything like that. “Some people wish to be more beautiful, but you don’t really need that.”

It comes out before she can really stop it, but he seems more embarrassed about it than she does. With the fire it’s hard to tell but she thinks he’s a little bit red in the face.

“I would wish you free, but–”

“Then you’d be a genie. And your sister would be alone,” Clarke sighs. “That’s why I told you about the rule. I was tricked into this. I don’t want to take advantage of a good person.”

Her heart breaks for her freedom. She wants it so badly, but she couldn’t do that to him, so she stands and gives a little wave when he looks up at her in concern.

“Let me know if you come up with any ideas. I’m heading in for the night.” Before he can say anything else, she disappears into her lamp, where she can cry without feeling guilty for putting it on him. He’s done a lot for her already, giving her food– which she doesn’t really need, but enjoys– and companionship and conversation. 

She doesn’t come out in the morning, and he doesn’t call for her. She can feel the rumble of the wheels somewhere beneath her, and knows he must be taking her to his home.

They ride through the night, and when he calls for her the next day, she emerges to find him standing with an arm around a girl who looks strikingly similar to her brother. She’s got sharp edges and dark hair, the same fire in her eyes, and wears the same expressions Clarke has seen on Bellamy’s face in the past week.

“You weren’t kidding,” the girl whispers, her eyes wide. Clarke gives another lame wave. “You seriously kidnapped a genie.”

“Clarke, this is Octavia. O, this is Clarke. She’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

Octavia takes it more in stride than Clarke would have expected, but then, she should have figured Bellamy’s sister would take after him. She shows Clarke the garden and lets her help– Clarke hasn’t done any real work in centuries– and offers Clarke a mat in her room, even though Clarke insists her lamp is fine. 

“Sleep wherever you want,” Octavia shrugs. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

Clarke ends up on the mat, if only because she enjoys the girl’s company. She’s also a little wary that this arrangement won’t last long, and wants to know she made the most of her time with the Blakes. She gets her hands as dirty as possible, laughs with Octavia as much as she can, and shares all of her best stories with Bellamy while they work.

She continues to offer Bellamy ideas of things to wish for, each more ridiculous than the last.

“Time travel,” she says one night, after he’s interrogated her thoroughly about her brief stint with Alexander the Great. “You must want to travel back in time. See some history for yourself?”

He just wrinkles his nose. 

“I’d probably catch some disease or realize it wasn’t as interesting as I think it is. I’d prefer to romanticize it, I think.”

One night she’s suggesting a pet tiger; the next, it’s a magical flying carpet. She offers knowledge of the future, or to never have to work a day in his life, or that he’d never get sunburn. She offers a ride on a gryphon, the ability to breathe underwater, or a bookshelf that refills itself when empty. He laughs and jokes with her, but saves his wishes, and before she realizes it, weeks have passed.

Real work is exhausting and exhilarating, and she almost feels like a person again. She’s so worn out from helping and the emotional stress that she falls asleep long before Octavia every night. As her body adjusts, however, she finds herself listening to the siblings talk and tease each other as she waits to fall asleep.

“How long is this going to last?” Octavia whispers one night. “Keeping a genie?” Clarke’s body tenses.

“As long as it can,” Bellamy answers wearily. “I’ll have to go back on the road eventually. I have no idea how long she can hide out here before someone tracks her down.”

“I can protect her, you know. Not that you’d want to leave her here.”

“She’s probably safer traveling with me.”

“That’s not really why I was thinking you’d bring her along, but sure. That too.”

He’s quiet for a moment and Clarke can picture the tiredness, the thoughtfulness on his face.

“I wish the lamp could be empty,” he whispers to Octavia. “I wish no one else would ever have to have that life. That she’d never have to live that life again.”

Clarke’s heart stops. He actually articulated wishes, which means she can try to grant them if she wants. She doesn’t know if it will work. Wishing the lamp empty could make her disappear, but it could also make her free. She’s tempted to go ahead and try it, but instead she sits up and walks out to where they’re sitting by the fire.

“Clarke,” he says, sitting up in surprise. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Is that an official wish?” She asks, ignoring him. “I don’t know what will happen; I’ve never tried to grant a wish that goes against the rules of the lamp. But I’ve had a long life. If I disappeared… well, it wouldn’t be worse than being a genie forever.”

Bellamy stands to face her, Octavia seated quietly, watching.

“I don’t want you to disappear.”

“I know,” she says, sorrowful. “That’s why I’m giving you the option to take it back. Or to use your other two wishes before I go.” She looks down at her hands, calloused from work. “I also wanted to say thanks. And goodbye. I couldn’t just… leave.”

He swallows and nods, rocking forward on his toes, and then back to his heels. It feels to Clarke like he’s holding himself back from something.

“I don’t want to take it back,” he says eventually. “If you think it could work, if you think the consequences are… bearable… then it’s official. And I want to put the power of all three of my wishes behind it.”

Clarke laughs, stepping forward to clutch Bellamy tightly. She throws her arms around his shoulders and after a stunned moment, he returns her hold. 

“That’s not really how it works,” she says, closing her eyes. She can feel the magic building within her, pulling at her to grant the wish. “If I end up somewhere else,” she whispers, pressing her lips to his cheek, “then may we meet again.”

His grip tightens and she lets go of the magic, eyes squeezed shut. There’s a dizzying moment where it feels like she’s getting pulled apart, like her soul is being peeled back in layers, but when the world rights itself, she’s still in Bellamy’s arms and he’s mostly holding her up.

“Clarke?”

“Did it work?” She mutters, clutching his forearms and drawing back a bit to stand on her own strength. She doesn’t feel that different, but there’s only one way to tell. “Quick, wish for something. Anything.”

“Uh– what–”

“A camel. A horse. Anything,” Octavia prompts him. 

“Okay, I wish I had a horse.” Clarke closes her eyes but she can’t feel a thing except the firmness of his arms, still twined with hers, and the cool night breeze ruffling her hair. She tries to return to her lamp, but nothing happens.

“It worked!” She cheers, and Octavia’s on her feet, throwing her arms around the two of them, while Bellamy has pulled her back in for a bone-crushing hug. When they release her, she moves just a little and then he’s kissing her and it’s better than she’d let herself hope for.

“I bet you regret passing up that flying carpet now,” she says a few days later when they’re back on the road again, the cart bumping uncomfortably underneath them.

“Nah,” he grins, throwing an arm around her and pulling her close. “I couldn’t wish for anything better than this.”


End file.
